


hold him down

by crystalmethod



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Crying, Dom/sub Undertones, Face-Sitting, Filth, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding, Very Mild Breeding Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 12:38:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19723849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalmethod/pseuds/crystalmethod
Summary: Johnny’s hand, large and hot, comes to rest against the elegant curve of his waist, barely stroking him through the thin white fabric of his shirt. Taeyong feels like he could melt through the floor at this point, his nerves on fire.





	hold him down

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by 190707 johnyong at the london show. see [here](https://twitter.com/nct127ed/status/1148055129695932421) and [here](https://twitter.com/simplynonie/status/1147998422634340352) for reference. 
> 
> yeah... my first fic ever *clown noises*. knocked it out in a few hours, no editing. hope the english is ok!!

-

Taeyong feels like he’s on the verge of passing out.

It’s _hot_.

It’s hot, and the bright stage lights are bathing the entire crowd in an almost ghostly glow, making his vision swim with kaleidoscopic hues of neon blues and greens. The colors swirl around him, and he feels all his senses heighten at once. He hears the ringing voices of the crowd, the way their screams crescendo when the opening melody of _Angel_ filters through the venue from the sound system. He feels the steady trickle of sweat down his temple, the itch of the diamond-studded choker against the sensitive column of his neck, the dull throb in his lower back—

He feels the insistent press of something foreign and smooth inside him as he steels himself and saunters as best as he can toward the other end of the stage.

Johnny is sitting on his stool, face calm and stoic as ever, looking absolutely ethereal in the bright blue light. He sways along to the opening of the song and catches Taeyong’s gaze immediately once he comes over, his own eyes crinkling warmly.

He’s beautiful, and Taeyong hates his fucking guts.

Taeyong hates his guts so much that, against his better judgement, he does something he normally wouldn’t dream of doing in his current condition.

He sidles right up to Johnny and plops down, molding his body to fit against the hard planes of Johnny’s own.

It takes all of his willpower not to flinch when the object shifts uncomfortably inside him upon contact with the stool, sending something molten and tingling up his spine. Johnny’s hand, large and hot, comes to rest against the elegant curve of his waist, barely stroking him through the thin white fabric of his shirt. Taeyong feels like he could melt through the floor at this point, his brain like jelly and his nerves on fire. He fights the urge to climb right up into Johnny’s lap and just—

Johnny’s hand has stilled on his waist, and Taeyong is hit with a sudden wave of annoyance at the taller man, at the bullshit he’s had to put up with all night. He leans in, right as he’s saying his own lines of the song, and mouths directly into Johnny’s ear.

_“All of you makes me imagine an image of an angel...”_

Taeyong can feel his own breath hot against the shell of Johnny’s ear and leans even closer to brush the velvety skin against his wet lips. He threads his hand into Johnny’s dark hair, loving the contrast against the pale blue of his own. He smirks in satisfaction as he feels Johnny jolt in surprise, his expression morphing into one of shock.

He moves to get up, his work done, when he feels the heavy hand against his waist tighten, pulling him flush against Johnny’s side once again. He almost yelps when the plug shifts this time, and Johnny seems to know it too based on the smirk playing at the corner of his lips. Taeyong hears his own panicked breaths as though watching from within the crowd, and he can barely register anything except for the insistent dig of Johnny’s large hand into the soft flesh on the side of his belly, uncomfortably close to the jut of his hipbone and the small bulge tenting the front of his slacks.

Taeyong’s so dizzy with need and from the thrum of his own heart threatening to burst forth from his chest that he nearly misses the mirth in Johnny’s eyes the moment he gets up.

-

Johnny’s hand is warm in his as he all but drags the taller man through the hallway to his dressing room. Johnny’s watching him with a bemused expression on his face, and it makes Taeyong’s blood boil hotly in his veins. Every step he takes is torture at this point, the smoothness of the plug pressing against his already oversensitive walls but never quite catching him at just the right point to satisfy his ache. He hears Johnny snicker at his obvious difficulty and squeezes his hand so hard he feels the bones crunch together, feeling a surge of sadistic pleasure at Johnny’s muttered “ow!”

He double-checks the lock on his dressing room door before shoving Johnny against the wall unceremoniously.

In a second, Taeyong has his arms around the thick shoulders, leaning up on his toes to catch Johnny’s lips in a bruising kiss. He presses his body into Johnny’s without preamble, grinding against the hard flesh of his thigh. He feels Johnny’s chest rumble against him as he lets out a low moan, large hands once again snaking around the curve of his waist as if drawn there by a magnet. Every point along Taeyong’s body where they come in contact burns like a hot poker, and he swears he can feel the flames charring his flesh.

“Johnny, get this thing out of me.” He hisses, bringing one of his hands down to palm harshly at the bulge forming in Johnny’s pants.

Johnny laughs, a sweet twinkling sound, seemingly unperturbed by Taeyong’s none-too-gentle ministrations. “Ok, baby… only if you ask nicely.”

Taeyong wants to scream in frustration. Johnny knows he hates this, hates begging for anything, but just then one of Johnny’s hands finds its way down the back of his loose pants and presses at the base of the plug through his underwear, nudging it forward and making Taeyong’s breath catch in his throat. He shoves his face into Johnny’s front, effectively muffling the moan that was threatening to come out.

“Johnny, please…” He whispers into the fabric of Johnny’s shirt, mortified but too frazzled to care at this point. “Please take it out now… I’ve been patient… I’ve been _good_.”

Johnny lets out another giggle at that. “Good? What do you call that stunt you pulled on stage then, huh?”

Taeyong has no response, just whines into Johnny’s chest, “Please take it out… I’ll do anything.”

Johnny makes a show of sighing exaggeratedly before plunging his hand into Taeyong’s underwear without warning and pulling out the plug with a lewd pop. The action causes Taeyong to cry out and buck forward, slotting his hips against Johnny’s. He immediately replaces the plug with two fingers, meeting almost no resistance from the slick, stretched rim. He fucks Taeyong with his fingers thoroughly, the sounds of the lube and the shorter man’s harsh breathing filling the silence in the room.

After one particularly hard thrust against his prostate that has Taeyong seeing stars, he starts moaning and writhing against Johnny’s front, desperate for the last bit of friction to finally get him off. He’s so very close, heat spreading from the base of his spine throughout the rest of his body, breathing hitched and mouthing soundlessly against Johnny’s clothed chest. He feels the pressure start to build up, and Johnny’s fingers crook deliciously inside him—

Before stopping suddenly.

There’s a strong hand against the small of his back, stilling his movements as Johnny removes his fingers and pops the plug back in place.

Taeyong feels like he might cry.

“Wait- wha-what do you think you’re doing?” His voice sounds absolutely pathetic even to his own ears.

Johnny’s grinning from ear to ear “I took it out, just like you asked.”

And with that, he leaves the dressing room and a spluttering Taeyong behind.

-

If by any chance Taeyong was ever asked to describe hell, he thinks the closest possible thing would be the trip to their hotel room following the show.

It has to be obvious to the others at this point. He knows he looks like a mess, carefully styled blue hair in disarray, falling haphazardly over his flushed face and kiss-swollen lips. He’s pretty certain he can’t even walk straight at this point due to the building pressure at his front and the small twinges of pleasure (and pain) that course through his body with even the smallest movement of the plug situated snugly within him. He can feel Johnny’s eyes boring into the back of his skull even as he’s laughing heartily at something Jaehyun says and flushes an even deeper crimson when Jaehyun gives him a knowing smirk when they part ways at the end of the hotel hallway.

Johnny’s behind him, keeping an infuriating distance as he fumbles with their room key, lets them inside and makes sure to make use of their _do not disturb!_ sign and double-lock. When he turns around, ready to murder Johnny right then and there, he’s met with an empty hallway.

Taeyong sighs in frustration and trudges into the offshoot of their hotel room that houses the bed. He finds Johnny lying there serenely, eyes closed with his hands folded behind his head. He stands there awkwardly, shifting his weight from foot to foot, not knowing what to do.

(He’d expected they’d be fucking by now.)

He’s so _done_ at this point. He really can’t do this anymore and sneaks his hand down the back of his pants, gripping the base of the plug and—

“Stop.” Johnny’s voice is light and soft; his eyes are anything but.

Taeyong wants nothing more than to roll his eyes but refrains. Being a brat had gotten him nowhere tonight.

“Go on, take everything off, baby.” His voice is still soft as silk, but there’s something there that makes Taeyong listen with haste, removing his thin sweatpants and oversized shirt clumsily.

Johnny shifts to turn on the dim bedside lamp, and the walls and ceiling of the room are bathed in warm light and suddenly covered in brilliant multicolored specks dancing along with each of Taeyong’s movements. With a jolt, he realizes he had forgotten to remove his diamond-studded choker from the concert. It sits delicately upon the middle of his throat, glittering away and reflecting the light like some portable disco ball.

He groans, bringing up his hands to remove it. “The stylists are going to have me for breakfast—“

“Wait, keep it on.” Johnny’s voice is slightly rougher, and Taeyong lowers his hands slowly.

“Come on up here.” The tenderness is back, and Taeyong obeys eagerly, ignoring the twinges of oversensitivity that make his body scream in protest with each movement.

Johnny opens his arms to him, and he’s on him like a glove, rubbing against the hardness in his pants and kissing him like he’s losing oxygen. Johnny’s hands roam over every inch of his body, leaving trails of fire in their wake, heating him up from the inside out. They map out the knobs of his spine, the thin and soft flesh of this thighs, the slight raised ridges of his ribs, and the smooth globes of his ass. He feels like he’s floating as Johnny attaches his mouth to a pink nipple and gives a hard suck. It’s almost enough to make him forget about the plug shifting inside of him. _Almost_.

Before he realizes it, Johnny’s hands are pulling apart his cheeks and removing the offending object, once again replacing it with two fingers, fucking into the slick heat without restraint. He hits his prostrate dead on with the third thrust, and he feels his hardness twitch.

“Ah! J-Johnny!” his moans are loud and wanton; he doesn’t even try to muffle them this time.

“Does that feel good, baby? Knowing you, that can’t be enough.”

Taeyong feels himself flush even more, red splotches blooming on his chest. “No, it’s… it’s not enough.” He almost whispers, shoving his face into the crook of Johnny’s neck and breathing in the scent to calm his fluttering heartbeat.

“Well, tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.” Johnny says in his lilting tone.

Taeyong would normally rather shrivel up and die than beg to get fucked, but he’s desperate at this point.

“I-I want you inside. I want to be stuffed full… I-I wanna cum, please. I can’t do this anymore.” His voice breaks embarrassingly, and he burrows his face further into Johnny’s neck.

Johnny grabs his chin and stares at him intently, and there’s such affection there that Taeyong feels like he’s looking at the sun and has to avert his eyes, cheeks burning.

“If you really want that, you’re not _nearly_ wet enough yet.” Johnny says matter-of-factly, reaching over and pulling a bottle of lube from his travel bag. “Turn around, m’gonna eat you out, get you real wet. Don’t touch yourself, OK?”

Taeyong nods. A shiver runs along his spine, and he feels the ache of his hardness pulse as he braces himself on his hands and knees, one knee on either side of Johnny’s stretched out legs. He can feel his abused and fucked hole squeezing in anticipation, clenching on air as Johnny’s hands, thrumming with energy, circle around his hipbones and yank him backwards hard enough that his ass falls right onto Johnny’s chest.

Taeyong, caught completely off guard, lets out what can only be described as a scream as Johnny adjusts himself so Taeyong’s literally sitting on his face, his cheeks stretched wide and exposing his hole.

“Ah! Mmf- Johnny, please. Please, oh god!” Taeyong nearly wails as Johnny’s tongue plunges into him suddenly, licking around his walls and prodding skillfully at a spot that makes his vision go black for a second. His finger, slicked with lube, enters a second later, pulling at Taeyong’s rim and fucking in quickly alongside his tongue. He goes at it, slurping obscenely at his hole until Taeyong’s a quivering mass of flesh above him, whimpering and moaning nonsense and aborted cries of his name.

When Johnny is done eating him out to within an inch of his life, he pats Taeyong’s ass softly, pushing him off. His chin and mouth are slick with spit and lube, and Taeyong can feel the clear streams of liquid leaking from his own hole. His thighs tremble, unable to support his full weight and his upper body crumples onto the bed. He takes in huge gasping breaths, trying to ground himself, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to will away his desire to touch himself. His entire body is burning, sweat pooling at his temples, in the dips of his hip and collarbones.

Once he’s gathered himself, he looks up to see Johnny sitting against the headboard, gaze burning and pants shucked down to mid-thigh, stroking his sizable length. Taeyong shivers at the fact that he had been fully clothed this whole time.

“Come on, you asked for this.” Johnny says, eyeing him expectantly.

Taeyong almost wants to pout because he’s positive Johnny knows he doesn’t have the energy to ride him right now, but his hard dick absolutely rules over his rational brain, and he crawls over anyway, situating his leaking hole right above Johnny’s dick and slowly lowering himself down.

“Ahhhnggh-.” He can’t help the pitiful moan that escapes him as he’s split open.

Johnny’s _big_.

Even with the excessive preparation, Taeyong’s body still burns with the stretch needed to accommodate him, and he lets out a prolonged moan when he finally sinks down all the way to the hilt. Even without any movement, Johnny manages to fill him so well, brushing up against everything inside him in a way that has him slack-jawed and drooling all over himself.

“Your ass is still so tight, baby. You’re practically sucking me in, like you were made to take my dick.” Johnny says, voice pitched slightly higher and breathing hitched, and Taeyong burns with pride to see the effect he’s having on the other as well. He grips tightly onto Johnny’s shirt and, with renewed energy, starts to ride him.

With each slide up and down, Taeyong sees stars and feels heat pool in the pit of his stomach as he finally gets much needed direct stimulation to his prostrate. Each movement sends what feels like volts of electricity through his body, and he is hyperaware of Johnny’s cock stuffing him full and bringing him closer to the edge. His moans escalate in volume and pitch, drowning out Johnny’s own groans as he impales himself repeatedly on Johnny’s cock, thighs burning and thin chest heaving with exertion. A glossy sheen of sweat coats his entire body, and he shudders as Johnny leans forward and licks a stripe across his jaw.

Suddenly, Johnny’s hands lock around Taeyong’s slim waist, pressing hard enough to bruise, keeping his hips in place. He gasps as Johnny moves his own hips in circles, grinding up into him and effectively halting his own upward movements. Taeyong struggles against his grip, wanting nothing more than to fuck himself stupid on Johnny’s length, to feel the blunt head against his prostate again, but his strength is quickly leaving him. He whimpers uselessly, burying his head against Johnny’s shoulder as Johnny continues to grind into him with tiny movements that don’t stuff him nearly as full as he wants.

He tries everything, wriggling his ass desperately against Johnny’s length in an effort to get him to move and moaning dirtily in his ear about how he wants his thick cock to rip right through him so he won’t be able to walk straight for a week. None of it works, and Johnny continues to slowly grind into Taeyong, teasing him but not allowing for the real pleasure he’s chasing. His hands remain a steady weight on Taeyong’s waist, restricting his movement and anchoring him.

Taeyong isn’t sure how long it lasts, but it seems like hours. He can feel the soreness seeping into his bones to compound the tiredness already there from their relentless touring schedule. He feels delirious, the edges of his vision fuzzy and glowing white as he sits there, basically warming Johnny’s cock as he barely moves inside of him. His dick remains untouched and hard between them.

It becomes too much, and Taeyong cracks, sniffling as his eyes fill with tears of frustration. He hates himself for it and tries to lift his head from Johnny’s shoulder, looking up towards the ceiling to try to blink away the wetness. He can see the pretty iridescent reflects from his diamond choker on the ceiling like shards of broken glass, and he feels like he himself’s close to shattering, coming apart at the seams and scattering pieces of himself across the hotel room floor. 

Johnny notices and quickly runs a soothing hand up his spine.

“Taeyong? Are you OK? Color?” There’s urgency in his voice, and his eyes are wide, looking at Taeyong with concern.

“G-green. But can you please move now, I don’t know how much more I can take.” Taeyong croaks, eyes still watering.

Johnny looks at him with the fondest eyes Taeyong’s ever seen and kisses him softly.

“Yeah, whatever you want, baby.”

And he begins to move.

His hands are still around Taeyong’s waist, restricting his movement, only this time Johnny thrusts upwards without abandon, ramming into his prostate with each jerk of his hips. Taeyong’s thrashing above him, overwhelmed with pleasure, moaning and chanting Johnny’s name like it’s a prayer.

It takes one, two, three more thrusts before Johnny’s coming, filling Taeyong’s insides to the brim. Taeyong feels it coat his walls, painting him with warmth, and he moans shakily, relishing the feeling of being used.

“That’s my pretty baby, dolled up in his pretty diamond choker, getting his pretty little ass pumped full of my come.” Johnny coos softly at him, stroking over the smooth plane of his stomach, large hands coming to rest once again along the curve of his thin waist. “If you were a girl, I’d have you pregnant by now, baby, have this belly swollen and full.” His fingers flit delicately across the soft flesh, scorching his skin. 

Taeyong lets out a choked sob at that, face burning with humiliation when he realizes that imagining himself ripe and carrying Johnny’s children floods his body with new warmth and arousal. The tears are flowing freely from his eyes now, leaving streaks down his face and mingling with the drool on his chin as Johnny continues to thrust up slowly into his loose and oversensitive body as he finishes coming, making obscene squelching sounds. There’s cum trickling from his abused hole back onto Johnny’s dick, and Taeyong swears he can feel his insides being rearranged with the force of each thrust.

Finally, _finally_ Johnny wraps a warm hand around his weeping arousal and jerks him off, the glide made easier by the copious amount of precome.

And that’s all it takes.

Taeyong keens loudly, back arching. The muscles in his legs go taut as the pressure that had been building up since Johnny had inserted that damn plug before their London concert comes to a head. He can feel the familiar warmth starting at the base of his spine, like rivers of molten lava trickling slowly through his veins and tendons and out over his burning skin. The reflects from his choker dance around them, surrounding them with flecks of multicolored light as Taeyong’s vision goes completely white and he crashes into his release, spilling over Johnny’s closed fist and his own stomach.

His vision blurs as Johnny pulls out carefully, and he barely registers the slight pressure of him re-inserting the plug into his gaping hole.

The colors dancing on the wall seem to stop moving, and the bed tilts up to meet his fall.

-

Taeyong comes to a few minutes later.

He can tell it’s only a few minutes later because Johnny is between his legs wiping up the come congealing there.

When Johnny sees him, he surges forward, capturing his lips in a tender kiss, careful not to put any weight on his throbbing body.

“How are you feeling? W-was that OK?” He asks with more than a little uncertainty.

Taeyong feels something warm bloom bright in his chest at the obvious care in his words. “It was perfect. Thank you, baby.” He leans forward to kiss him again. “Now, can you help me to the shower? I need to really clean up.”

Johnny grins. “I’m already a step ahead of you. Shower’s warmed up and running.”

Taeyong moves to stand up, but a dull pain shoots up his backside when he tries to leave the bed, and he immediately falls back onto the sheets again, cursing. Johnny rushes to his side, trying to suppress his laughter. Taeyong notices and punches him lightly on the arm.

“You know, this means I’m gonna make you run errands for me all day today on our day off. The others surely can’t see me like this.” He says, smirking.

Johnny looks horror-stricken for a split second before replying, “You’d be surprised how much they know already.” He lets out a loud giggle as he dodges another punch aimed at his shoulder. “I mean, they’re not stupid, you know.”

Taeyong is too tired and fucked out to ponder the implications of those words, instead settling for extending his arms like a petulant child. “Come carry me.”

Johnny rolls his eyes but does as he asks, the mischievous glint in Taeyong’s eyes all the convincing he needs.

-

**Author's Note:**

> take up yr inevitable grievances with me here:
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/tysdom)


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